Intricately Constructed Web
by huggs5
Summary: With Seb now dead and Jim torn apart, how will he cope with Sherlock harassing him at every corner?
1. Chapter 1

The first day without Jim was hard, there were too many memories stashed around the house, hiding in closets and under the large vase in the hall… Seb wanted to leave. He wanted to take all his stuff and run away, but nothing in that house was his. Sure, he had shirts and maybe a pair of shoes that he had bought himself, but that was it. Everything else Jim had bought him. Seb stayed in the bedroom, watching moonlight turn into sunlight and moonlight once again.

The second day without Jim it hit him. The day before had been a blank, endless abyss and he hit the bottom then. He woke up with tears in his eyes, but pushed them back and got up. The rest of the day was spent in front of the TV, flicking past everything that brought back memories. Until something came on the radio, "Savin' Me" by Nickelback, the song that was playing in the car while Jim was setting up to be Richard Brook. He did lose it, he finally accepted that Jim was gone, he was never coming back. **He was never coming back. **

365 days after Jim was killed, he was found in the middle of nowhere by Sherlock wielding a gun.  
>"Do it!" he shouted at him, watching the barrel of the gun tremble ever so slightly at his head.<br>Sherlock hesitated before snapping the gun into his palm and unloading it. He was in the tattered remains of his old coat that was almost falling off him, but he was unbelievably strong. Sherlock dropped the gun into his pocket and drew himself up to his full height before taking a few steps toward Seb. "You're Sebastian Moran. Wishing for death? Did your partners death traumatize you so much?"  
>Seb gritted his teeth, he also was thinner, but not like Sherlock was. Sherlock was thin because he had been running around the place… but Seb was thin because he hardly ever ate unless it was completely necessary to his survival. "Shut up, fucking <em>shut up<em>!" Seb's carefully constructed, intricate web he had set up to stop the pain was suddenly being torn down. He hadn't seen another human being for at least ten months. He didn't want to see anyone and just Sherlock being here in the same room was making everything crash.  
>He chuckled, "Of course. Jim smelled of lubricant on the roof, no doubt it was you," with a satisfied smile, he slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Was it?"<br>Seb gritted his teeth, he remembered every detail of that night. He remembered when Jim told him that he might die and that Seb shouldn't be sentimental and keep his things. But he was grieving two days after and forgot all about it. "Who else!"  
>Something must have shown through on his face because Sherlock winced and stepped back. "I see. How long have you been out here? Six months? Nine months? No… you moved straight out here…" he laughed and shook his head, regaining his cold exterior, "You really are pathetic aren't you?"<br>Seb looked to thee ground, his breath hissing between his teeth in short, staccato gasps. He couldn't break now! He can't. He can't. "Leave. Now, please," he shut his eyes, swaying where he stood. He heard a metallic click before the feel of cool metal at his forehead.  
>"Then I guess this is good for you."<br>He opened his eyes fast enough to see Sherlock's finger tighten on the trigger and an apologetic expression flicker over his features. The truth was, Sebastian Moran wasn't scared for this, he wasn't even saddened by it. He welcomed it.

* * *

><p><strong>Your heart isn't broken, it's burned.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter two, based off of a RP me and a friend of mine did a while ago.**

* * *

><p>Jim Moriarty knew exactly where Seb was, of course he did. He was staying at HIS safe house after all. He was holding a box of chocolates in one hand a rose in the other. Jim liked to make an impression. Even if that meant turning up 1000 miles in the middle of no where to visit his grieving partner after a full year. As he rounded on the house, he thought he heard a gun shot from inside. For half a second his heart fell to his feet, he was actually scared for Seb. But he chased the thought away. Seb was probably just shooting a rat or something. Right? <strong>Right?<strong>

Unintentionally he started to move faster, taking longer strides until the was running up the stairs and throwing open the door. What he saw and what he understood was a whole different matter. He saw blood first, against the white wall of the lounge, splattered across the paintings. He then saw the gun, laying on the carpet. Before he saw Sherlock, however the tears had already started to pool into his eyes.  
>"Seb!" he started forward, dropping the items in his hands as he went. That was when he spotted Sherlock, hiding in the corner of the lounge. "You!" Sherlock stepped from behind the corner, snickering. "Yes, me. Who else would shoot your lover cold blood?"<br>Jim was speechless, completely overcome all of a sudden. "What?"  
>Sherlock smirked. "Yes. Moriarty, I killed Moran. Your... how shall I put it? Boyfriend?"<br>Jim started for the chair, finding Seb slumped over in the chair... no. It wasn't Seb any more. Seb was gone. And Jim knew that the second he saw the blood covering the back of his head.  
>"What...?" he couldn't comprehend. Jim Moriarty was for once, completely vulnerable. "Seb! What did you do!"<br>Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I already told you. I killed him."  
>Jim looked up at him, saw the malice in his eyes and almost fell over in his haste to straighten. "Why?" his voice was a broken whisper, barely understandable. "He had<em>nothing<em> to do with us! He's killed people, he's done bad things. But _what did he do to you_!" he crouched onto the ground, looking at Seb from underneath, seeing the wound. It wasn't as clean as it usually was, this was grisly and gruesome. And gory.  
>"Did John ever have anything to do with anything?" Sherlock stated, his voice a mixture of pain and anger. "Did you think about his when you captured him at the pool? Did you think about that when you made me jump off the roof!"<br>Jim hid his face in his hands, trying to erase the image of Seb from his head. "Stop! Stop!" he crumpled and fell into a mess of tears and pain.  
>Sherlock almost snarled at him, "Why should I? Why should I not let you suffer with this as you've made John suffer?"<br>"Shoot me!" panic and pain and anger and fear and pure, raw grief pounded through him. And those two words were so powerful and so full that Sherlock stopped.  
>"What if I don't?" it was a threat. Not a question.<br>Jim raised his head to look at him. "Then I'll do it myself. That's what you would want isn't it? So you can go back to John! So you can go back to YOUR partner. YOUR flat. With JOHN. Because YOU STILL HAVE HIM!" Jim at that moment didn't care how childish or how fucked up he was. He was in pain. And pain changes people.  
>Sherlock did snarl this time, "I will NEVER have him the same. AGAIN. because of YOU. I will never be able to look at him again without thinking about what he felt in this year. I will never be able to return to normal life. EVER AGAIN. Because of you!" tears were glistening in Sherlock's eyes now, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets.<br>Jim was shaking so hard he couldn't form words properly. "L-leave me here... the-then. You've made a ch-child of me."  
>A pang of remorse could be seen fluttering momentarily across Sherlock's face, only to be replaced by his same, cold, hard expression once more.<p> 


End file.
